


Be Yours

by ToWhomItMayConcern



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Dark Themes later on?, F/M, Fluff, Knight AU, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToWhomItMayConcern/pseuds/ToWhomItMayConcern
Summary: Arianna Cabbot, princess of Riverhearth, has to tread the dangerous world of death and dark forces she's suddenly thrusted in in the midst of war and worst of all, love.EDIT CHECK CHAPTER TWO FOR CHAPTER ONE OPTION 2
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Knight AU with our boy Din Djarin. Hope this goes well!

She could smell the blood. 

It was coated all around her, in the small patch of meadow around the fields she grew up around. Ariana looked down and saw it was on her hands as well. The stickiness and heaviness of it was distinct, dripping slowly between the cracks of her fingers. 

She heard her name being called but couldn’t decipher who it was. Everything was slow and sluggish as she started to turn around. But whatever or whomever it was, it was peace, it was home, it was – 

Ariana awoke with a gasp, clutching her blanket. Her heart pounded heavily against her rib cage, mouth dry and temple pulsing. She frantically looked down at her hands, afraid to see them crimson.

Pale as the day she was born. 

With a sigh of relief, she inspected her room, morbidly expecting blood to be seeping from the plain dark walls. Her nightgown was sticking to her uncomfortably, hair frizzled and eyes shifting from every corner of her room. She was sure she looked utterly mad. 

The sun shined brightly through the curtains of her room, rays of gold splaying across the wooden floor. Dust laid still in the air through the sun’s rays, and she could briefly taste it on her tongue. 

“Princess?” 

Ariana jumped, still gripping the top of her blanket, knuckles white. Jules peered through, closing the door behind her and giving her a look. 

“Another nightmare?”

A nightmare. Yes, yes that’s what that was.

“Yes,” Ariana finally croaked. She cleared her throat before continuing. “But it is nothing to fret over.”

Jules snorted as she pulled back the curtains, laughing at Ariana’s grimace as she shielded her face from the blinding sun. 

“You have been having nightmares for many a night now. It is a sign.”

Jules, with her light brown, straight hair, blue eyes and slender form was not only a loyal servant, but a dear friend as well. Just at the tender age of thirteen Jules was appointed to Ariana, who was only a year older than she. It was the picking of her father, Bringham, that brought the two together. 

“It is through my mother that I know you now,” Jules told her in the beginning of their relationship. “And I am fortunate to be here, with you and the King.”

Ariana knew she’d rather be anywhere but under a Royal’s thumb. Jules was too kind to say it aloud, but she knew. 

But despite the position, Jules had the voice of a singer, soft and sweet and pleasing to the ears of those around her, even now in the early sets of morning. Ariana often found herself jealous of her gift.

“No sign,” Ariana argued. “Foolish to dwell on when there’s wars and sickness to worry about.”

It was the same excuse every time. She had a duty to fulfill, a title to fill if her father failed to do so before his death.

So she was next in line for the crown, the responsibilities of her people, and she could not afford to waste it on pointless dreams. 

“Well the joust is today, Ariana,” Jules chimed, throwing a gown at her. Ariana huffed as it hit her in the face, glaring at the grinning girl. “And that guard of yours will be the ever brooding knight, stealing away your heart once more.”

Ariana tried to bite back the smile that wanted to desperately graze her lips. “He’s barely a friend, Jules. He’s a knight.”

And she didn’t know what he looked like. 

“And I’m the queen,” Jules quipped back with a roll of her eyes. “Your father expects you to be in the halls after you are dressed. Please don’t keep him waiting.”

Ariana grumbled as she stood up, shedding off her damp nightgown and throwing on the beautiful and elegant blue gown; simple with her family’s crescent, a river and a lively tree, laced around the edges and forearm. It brought out the bright green of her wide eyes, her wavy, dirty blonde hair, ivory skin and plump, red lips. 

She poked at her face, frowning at the light grey under her eyes. She would need to cover it soon. 

Her face, the face of her mothers people would tell her.

“Take it from Adriana, and you have Ariana.” They would follow with. 

It made her father bristle at the mention of her mother every time, and more so when he would study her. 

But today was not the day to dwell on such horrors. Today was a day of celebration, a day to bring everyone together. 

“Ariana,” her father, Bringham, greeted her with a warm smile. “Please, sit next to me dear.”

Bringham Cabbot was still a handsome man even in his middle age, with his dark hair - turning grey with age - and crinkled brown eyes. Ariana could never see this, but she heard the whispers among the crowds in the marketplace, all young and old and in between gushing over the widowed king. It bothered her at a young age, but she grew to just simply ignore them as she got older; she didn’t need to waste her time on their helpless dreams anyway. 

Because despite every desirable, participating and willing woman flooding the courts for one chance at his hand in marriage, Bringham would turn them away each time with a soft, apologizing smile.

“You do not need to worry of such things,” Bringham had told Ariana.

“Of course I do,” she argued. “You’re my father, and you deserve love just as the rest of us. Why have you not given it a second chance?”

“And why not you give it a chance at all? You’re no better than I when it comes to suitors.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, mulling over his words. 

They indeed held truth to them, but she refused to give him an answer when this night was supposed to be about him. 

“This isn’t about me,” she voiced.

He gave his daughter a small, closed lip smile. It was in that smile that Ariana saw that he wasn’t going to explain his reasoning’s to her. It was the wrong time too, and she liked to think that he just could not fathom or form the words left unsaid between them; the loss of her mother, the beautiful queen and a loving wife, it was too much to bear on his still heavy and sore heart. 

But never did he ever make Ariana or anyone else believe that she was the reasoning behind Queen Adriana’s death - not by his own doing anyway. He even named her after her mother, and explained once she was a little older that her mother died giving life, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way; in fact, the Queen’s last words spoken were simply for Ariana’s ears only, whispering as softly and quietly as she could in her newborn’s ear. Ariana wished she could remember her mother’s last words to her. 

That night was peculiar in her memories, just only a week ago. It was warm, a slight, comfortable breeze enveloping through the ports. Her father had been drinking, and – though she knew how wrong this was – tried taking advantage of her drunk father to pry the truth from him; because she meant every word she said, her father did deserve another chance at love. 

It was also the first night she indulged in a few gulps of the wine as well, not stopping until her mind and body felt sluggish, and she felt overly bubbly and bold. She skipped through the halls of her home quietly, soft as feathers. 

She had been looking for Jules but could not find her in sight. Ariana found this as unusual of her friend, but it was quickly dismissed when she bumped into a hard barrier, nearly falling back onto her rump when a pair of hard, strong arms caught her. 

Ariana struggled to recall her previous lectures of etiquettes when she saw him. 

“Oh!” She gasped. “I’m t-terribly sorry.”

Din was… an enigma.

Appointed at a very young age as a knight and soldier in training to one of her own guards, he had been loyal to her family since she was a teenager. 

And yet she had no knowledge of his upbringings and where he originated from at all. He rarely spoke unless needed, and even then it was short and to the point. But he was a very skilled fighter and was valued by all and every in times of wars and miscellaneous, dirty jobs. He always complied with no questions, no quarrels. That’s why he was the perfect soldier. 

And in a world, in a kingdom where all royal knights could never show their faces after their creed, she wasn’t able to see his face. 

The logic behind these oaths were always questioned.

“Dignity. Loyalty. These men and women need to be the perfect soldiers in order to protect our people. It has worked for many years, and will continue to do so.”

Ariana wasn’t so sure of that. 

The helmet, silver with a slit for him to see through, that was staring intensely back at her. 

“Princess,” he said gruffly. His voice, hard and yet soft even covered, never failed to send shivers through her body, and for her heart to skip several beats. “It’s late. What are you doing running about?”

His stare bore deep into her green orbs, and she found herself giggling at the seemingly silly question. 

“Looking for you, my knight,” she said with a childish glee. 

“You need to be asleep. I’m sure your father is.”

Ariana could not help it, but she rolled her eyes at him with a quirky smile. 

“Please, Din.” She sighed. “He will not be woken up. He’s had himself a few too much tonight.”

He grunted. “It seems as though you have as well, Princess.”

This caused her to frown. “Please, call me Ariana. We have this talk at least once or twice a week.”

She heard the shift of his silver armor - painted with his Royal’s crescent and doing little to hide the protruding build of the man - as he twitched, moving slightly away from her. She saw this as a nervous tick, a means to hide back behind his tower and go back to silence.

Ariana immediately regretted saying anything when she missed the warmth of his arms against her despite the cold bite of his armor that came with it. 

“Ariana,” he said cautiously. “It would be unprofessional of me to not call you by your title.”

She didn’t know why, but she found herself giggling again, twirling around the halls as she continued to laugh. 

“Right. You’re one of the fiercest knights of Riverhearth.” Her voice grew louder as her giddiness did, and she could barely hear Din’s shushes over the rushing waves in her ears. 

“Brave, strong, healthy, and dangerous. Din Djarin of… of Nowhere’s Land! Where are you from, my precious guard? Just who are you? What is under all that armor?”

Ariana had never seen Din freeze like he had that night. It was a guilty memory added to the growing list she made in her head; the death of her mother was the first. 

But Din quickly shook it off, and she hated how remarkably good he was at keeping his composure, whereas she sometimes let her emotions get the best of her. 

It was entirely unconventional. 

“You do not need to know such things, Princess Ariana,” he said, walking towards her now that she had stopped moving from him. “You know enough about me to go on.”

“But I ought to know something more,” she pouted. Then she straightened up with a set jaw. “And as Princess of this court, I demand you tell me this instance!”

She swore she could hear his smile, but before she could tease him about it he sighed heavily through his nose and, again, she was sure, narrowed his eyes at her. She started to smile triumphantly before she was abruptly turned around in the spot, being pushed - gently although, like he was afraid to touch her - towards the direction of her bedroom. 

“Unfair,” she whined.

“Princesses don’t always get what they want,” he quipped. “You should start learning that.”

She should have felt a little offended by his words, but Ariana found it to be humorous in nature. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever spoken to me like that, Din.”

He must have just realized it as well, because he stopped for a millisecond before continuing his path to her door, making sure she didn’t trip or stumble along the way; it proved a lot harder than he predicted, but thank goodness she was not completely over the rails. 

“You better get used to it then if you continue this way.”

She giggled. “Aw why? Am I -” She crossed her arms over her heart, gasping in exaggeration and leaning heavily against him, leg sticking out and swaying. “A bother to you, good knight?”

He shook his head at her and eased her into her bedroom without making too much noise, helping her lie down on her bed with a gentle flop. 

“It must be a very lonely life,” she found herself rambling. “When you’re as dedicated to the Court as yourself.”

There was nothing but the rustling of her sheets as she settled into her bed, eyes already closed and feeling dizzy from her previous excursions. 

She did not expect him to respond, and he did, but not with what she wanted to hear. 

“Rest. You will feel like roadkill in the morning, and I do not want to explain to the King on why his daughter was running around drunk at such witching hours.”

Witching hours, Din worrying about her getting a pinch on the wrist by her father, the luck of trying to find Jules leading to this conversation, it all was funny to her and she actually was able to let out a tiny giggle before succumbing to sleep. 

The next morning, as Din had told her, she did in fact feel like roadkill. Her brain thrummed against her skull, and she had to pretend that everything was okay and that she could still perform her royal duties without puking her guts out. 

Just like Din had pretended that the night before never happened. Ariana had expected at least a polite hello or a joke about her splitting headache, but all she received was an order passed through him by her father while she was in the gardens that surrounded her pretty castle, poised and stoic. 

It made her heart drop in defeat, but she respected him enough to let it be and to move on her days without the normal teasing and failed attempts at getting him to hold a conversation with her. 

It hurt greatly, but the sting of it eased when he visibly grew more relaxed around her as she calmed her efforts. 

“Patience,” her instructor had taught her. “Is a virtue, and it is a hardship you must grow accustomed to if you want to do anything in this world. Especially for a future queen as yourself, Ariana.”

It was a lot more easier said than done. Even at the tender age of just twenty-one, she still had such a hard time grasping the ethics of it. 

“You will be a fine queen one day,” Jules once told her. “But they are right about one thing: you are incredibly stubborn and reckless for a title.”

So what if she was. Ariana respected and held knowledge for the duties of her kingdom, but why should she completely erase the person she was for what was rightfully hers?

“You’ll see it one day,” Jules promised her. “Once you start acting like an adult.”

“I do!” Ariana argued. “It is not my fault that no one sees me.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be looking back at this shaking your head at your annoying, stubborn self.”

Maybe, but Ariana didn’t see that anytime soon in her future. 

“Dear?”

The sound of her father’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, shaking her head to clear her head. 

“Sorry, in a bit of a daydream.” She murmured to Bringham. 

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t.”

She let out her own forced chuckle at his jest, and they sat in comfortable silence as they broke their fast, talking occasionally about the day’s festivities. 

“And how are the ports?” Ariana asked through a sip of her broth. 

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Shipments arrived last night on time. We have more coming in from Colefiend, and another set out for Point Valley in the morning.”

Riverhearth was one of the closest and affordable ports in the North. Surrounded by mountains of spring and summer, there lied an ocean in between. It certainly was not the wealthiest of surrounding kingdoms, but they made well with what they had, and the people were happy and taken care of as King Bringham and the people of the Court attuned to. 

“May I please be excused?”

Bringham gave her a quizzical look. “You may. What are your plans?”

Ariana gave her father a smirk and a tap on the tip of her nose. He made a noise of affirmation and grinned. 

“Ah, I see. Well be sure to be back for the joust, and be careful.”

Her grin grew wider. “Of course, aren’t I always?”

Jules was in the kitchens, helping the cooks and other maidens clean up and prepare varieties of desserts for the upcoming feasts. 

“Hello, Princess,” one of the cooks, Peter, greeted her. “Would you like a taste of my new recipe?”

Ariana hummed. “As always Peter. No need to ask of me.”

He laughed. “As you wish.”

Peter held a wooden spoon over an open palm, bringing up to her for her to taste. The sauce was rich with exotic spices, and was smooth on her taste buds. 

“It’s delicious!” She exclaimed. “Just add a pinch of salt and it’s perfection.”

He grinned and nodded, going back to hover over his new creation. “Always a keen one, Princess.”

Ariana bounced through until she found Jules, and immediately grabbed her hand. She turned to Peter, hugging Jules close to her as she giggled and lightly scrunched her cheeks in her hand. 

“May I borrow this lovely, beautiful, elegant, and most gullible being until the festivities?” Ariana asked through a fit of laughter and a smack against the shoulder from her dear friend as they smiled. 

Peter laughed. “Yes, your highness. Do not wander off too far!”

Ariana and Jules agreed and ran out of the gray but pleasant castle. They ran through the gardens, through the maze and fields of flowers blooming, and through the forest that littered by. 

The forest was peculiar in its nature. Twisted vines that protruded from dead trees - though surrounded by live ones, a little confusing to Ariana by the oddity and sporadic’s of it - with little weeds littering along the trail. 

The trail itself was wide enough for two people to walk through without the curves of the forest’s slopes. Despite its initial darkness to it, the woods was nothing but life; it was the type of beauty Ariana appreciated greatly. 

By the time Ariana and Jules reached it they were out of breath, giggling and rushing towards the edge of the cliff that gave one of the most beautiful views of the waters. A tall, blossom tree hung above them as they plopped down onto the grass, careful not to ruin Ariana’s blue gown. 

“The joust is going to start soon,” Jules said. 

Ariana could hear the music from there, faint but distinctive all the same. Din would be preparing right now, polishing and sharpening his sword and putting on the heavy armor he wore every day and night. It all sounded exhausting to her. 

“Hmm.”

They basked in the sun, the salty smell of the water, blue and all. This is where Ariana truly felt at peace, like she could strip naked without a care in the world and be free, in whatever sense she needed to be. She was sure Jules felt the same way, with the glazed look in her eyes and the longing. It made her ridden with guilt each time she saw it. 

It was when the music became louder Ariana spotted a ship rounding the corner.

“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors,” Jules said quizzically. 

“We weren’t,” Ariana said quietly, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’re not due for another shipment either.”

They both looked to each other, confusion etched on their faces. 

“It is time to head back anyways,” Jules told her, getting up and helping Ariana to her feet. “We shall find out there.”

The way back was quicker. They departed when they reached the stands, hugging before Ariana went to sit next to her father, smiling and greeting anyone who looked towards her. 

“Little late,” her father chastised. 

Ariana ignored his remark, pausing as she saw something small sitting in her chair. At closer inspection, she realized it was a flower, a lily flower at that; it was her favorite.

“Not my gift I’m afraid,” Bringham answered before she could ask. “And I have no idea on who could’ve left it there either.”

She picked it up delicately, curling a hand over it as if she were going to pet it. Whoever had left this for her, they paid enough attention to know her flower of choice; the flower her mother had nearly named her after. 

“Do we have guests coming our way?” 

He tensed slightly, but was quick to brush it off. “Nothing to worry about my dear girl.”

She chewed on her lip, a nervous habit of hers; another inheritance from her mother her father would tell her. 

“And you’d tell me if I needed to know.”

“Of course.”

It was fruitless to press in front of the village people. She turned back to the stables, where the knights were preparing with their horses. But her scowl was still visible on her face, and her father sighed softly at the sight of it, knowing he was going to have to answer for it later. 

Everyone started to grow silent as the drums signaled the official start of the joust. Her eyes searched keenly for her knight, grinning when she saw him appear. 

Ariana found it funny when Jules occasionally called Din the ‘Dark’ Knight. His armor was everything but, all silver, chain mail glittering in the sun. She supposed her friend was right in the sense that it certainly didn’t match his personality. 

And with all the horror stories that echoed across lands and valleys of his victories? 

Ariana could see why he could be anything but innocent; light. 

She barely heard the announcements over the pounding of her heart as she watched the two knights mount their horses. Din’s was a white mare, and gentle despite its size. Sometimes she’d hear him talk to his horse, as if the horse understood the language; she was sure he wasn’t aware he was doing it anymore. 

Her heart thudded against her chest, watching the Black Knight, a swordsmith she believed and an appointer of the Royal Guard named Robert. 

They readied their spears, sitting on their respectable sides. She unconsciously leaned in, flower still in hand. 

Din’s horse kicked at the ground, huffing as it prepared itself. Ariana held her breath, as she was sure others were doing as well. 

The horn blared and their horses took off, galloping at a furious speed towards each other. 

Robert was a decent fighter, that much Ariana had seen in person. But Din, in her opinion, was better. 

The crowd cheered as a flurry of white and black clashed against each other. The scraping of metal against metal was prominent in the summer air, loud and aggravating. 

“Looks like I made the right choice in guard,” Bringham said. 

Din sat triumphantly as his horse ran back around, Robert laying on the ground next to him. Robert eventually got back up, and he without a doubt held a glare towards his opponent; Din sat back on his side of the stables, still and patient like a hunter with its prey. 

But Robert was also known for his temper, and threw his spear angrily on the ground, pointing a finger at the White Knight. 

“You just tread carefully, churl.”

Anyone would have already been set off, brawling until knuckles were bruised and bloody. Ariana never had any patience for these kinds of pettiness, and it seemed as though Din didn’t either, because he trudged back to his respective area on his horse, not giving Robert a second glance. 

“Yes,” Ariana murmured. “You did.”


	2. Chapter One Option 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I just wanted to see which one would people prefer? 
> 
> OC or 'You'? 
> 
> I've noticed there's some difference and popularity between the two and one of my first drafts of this one 'You' rather than Ariana. 
> 
> So here it is and let me know what you guys want in the comments!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just wanted to see which one would people prefer? 
> 
> OC or 'You'? 
> 
> I've noticed there's some difference and popularity between the two and one of my first drafts of this one 'You' rather than Ariana. 
> 
> So here it is and let me know what you guys want in the comments!

You could smell the blood.   
It was coated all around you, in the small patch of meadow around the fields you grew up around. You looked down and saw it was on your hands as well. The stickiness and heaviness of it was distinct, dripping slowly between the cracks of your fingers. 

You heard your name being called but couldn’t decipher who it was. Everything was slow and sluggish as you started to turn around. But whatever or whomever it was, it was peace, it was home, it was – 

You awoke with a gasp, clutching your blanket. Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage, mouth dry and temple pulsing. You frantically looked down at your hands, afraid to see them crimson.

Pale as the day you were born. 

With a sigh of relief, you inspected your room, morbidly expecting blood to be seeping from the plain dark walls. Your nightgown was sticking to you uncomfortably, hair frizzled and eyes shifting from every corner of your room. You were sure you looked utterly mad. 

The sun shined brightly through the curtains of your light blue room, rays of gold splaying across the wooden floor. Dust laid still in the air through the sun’s rays, and you could briefly taste it on your tongue. 

“Princess?” 

You jumped, still gripping the top of your blanket, knuckles white. Jules peered through, closing the door behind her and giving you a look. 

“Another nightmare?”

A nightmare. Yes, yes that’s what that was.  
“Yes,” you finally croaked. You cleared your throat before continuing. “But it is nothing to fret over.”

Jules snorted as she pulled back the curtains, laughing at your grimace as you shielded your face from the blinding sun. 

“You have been having nightmares for many a night now. It is a sign.”

Jules, with her light brown, straight hair, blue eyes and slender form was not only a loyal servant, but a dear friend as well. Just at the tender age of thirteen Jules was appointed to you, who was only a year older than yourself. It was the picking of her father, Bringham, that brought the two of you together. 

“It is through my mother that I know you now,” Jules had told you once. “And I am fortunate to be here, with you and the King.”

You knew she’d rather be anywhere but under a Royal’s thumb. Jules was too kind to say it aloud, but you knew. 

But despite the position, Jules had the voice of a singer, soft and sweet and pleasing to the ears of those around her, even now in the early sets of morning. You often found yourself jealous of her gift.

“No sign,” you argued. “Foolish to dwell on when there’s wars and sickness to worry about.”

It was the same excuse every time. You had a duty to fulfill, a title to fill if your father failed to do so before his death. 

So you were the only one next in line for the crown, the responsibilities of your people, and you could not afford to waste it on pointless dreams. 

“Well the joust is today,” Jules chimed your name, throwing a gown at you. You huffed as it hit you in the face, glaring at the grinning girl. “And that guard of yours is the ever brooding Dark Knight.”

You tried to bite back the smile that wanted to desperately graze your lips. “He’s barely a friend, Jules.”

And you didn’t know what he looked like.   
“And I’m the queen,” Jules quipped back with a roll of her eyes. “Your father expects you to be in the halls after you are dressed. Please don’t keep him waiting.”

You grumbled as you stood up, shedding off your damp nightgown and throwing on the beautiful and elegant blue gown; simple with your family's crescent, a river and a lively tree, laced around the edges and forearm.

You poked at your face, grimacing at the light grey under your eyes. You would need it covered soon. 

For some odd reason, it had you thinking of your late mother. 

Your mother, who many said that you practically wore her face. 

“Take it from Adriana, and you have yourself right there.” They would follow with. 

It made your father bristle at the mention of your mother, and more so when he would study you; watching from afar with careful eyes. 

But today was not the day to dwell on such horrors and sadness. Today was a day of celebration, a day to bring everyone together. 

“Ah!” Your father, Bringham, greeted you with a warm smile. “Please, sit next to me dear.”

King Bringham of Riverhearth was still a handsome man even in his middle age, with his dark hair - turning grey with age - and crinkled brown eyes. You could never see this, but you heard the whispers among the crowds in the marketplace, all young and old and in between gushing over the widowed king. It bothered you at a young age, but you grew to just simply ignore them as you got older; you didn’t need to waste your time on their helpless dreams anyway. 

Because despite every desirable, participating and willing woman flooding the courts for one chance at his hand in marriage, Bringham would turn them away each time with a soft, apologizing smile.

“You do not need to worry of such things,” Bringham had told you.

“Of course I do,” you argued. “You’re my father, and you deserve love just as the rest of us. Why have you not given it a second chance?”

“And why not you give it a chance at all? You’re no better than I when it comes to suitors.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, mulling over his words. 

They indeed held truth to them, but you refused to give him an answer when this night was supposed to be about him. 

“This isn’t about me,” you voiced.

He gave you a small, closed lip smile. It was in that smile that you saw that he wasn’t going to explain his reasoning's to you You liked to think that he just could not fathom or form the words left unsaid between them; the loss of you mother, the beautiful queen and a loving wife, it was too much to bear on his still heavy and sore heart. 

But never did he ever make you or anyone else believe that you were the reasoning behind Queen Adriana’s death. 

“She gave life, and she saw that as a blessing on her own.” Bringham told you. 

That night was peculiar in your memories, just only a week ago. It was warm, a slight, comfortable breeze enveloping through the ports. Your father had been drinking, and you thought do indulge yourself as well.

You weren’t queen yet. 

You did not stop until your mind and body felt sluggish, and you also felt overly bubbly and bold. You skipped through the halls of her home quietly, soft as feathers. 

You had been looking for Jules but could not find her in sight. You found this as unusual of your friend, but it was quickly dismissed when you bumped into a hard barrier, nearly falling back onto your rump when a pair of hard, strong arms caught you. 

You struggled to recall your previous lectures of etiquettes when you saw him. 

“Oh!” You gasped. “I’m t-terribly sorry.”

Din was… a complete enigma. 

Appointed at a very young age as a knight and soldier in training to one of your own guards, he had been loyal to your family since you were a teenager. You had no knowledge of his upbringings and where he originated from at all. He rarely spoke unless needed, and even then it was short and to the point. But he was a very skilled fighter and was valued by all and every in times of wars and miscellaneous, dirty jobs. He always complied with no questions, no quarrels. That’s why he was the perfect soldier. 

And in a world, in a kingdom where all royal knights could never show their faces after their creed, you were never able to see his face. 

The logic behind these oaths were always questioned, yourself included. 

“Dignity. Loyal. These men and women need to be the perfect soldiers in order to protect our people. It has worked for many years, and will continue to do so.”

You weren’t so sure of that. 

The helmet, silver with a slit for him to see through, that was staring back at you with intensity. 

“Princess,” he said gruffly. His voice, hard and yet soft even covered, never failed to send shivers through your body, and for your heart to skip several beats. “It’s late. What are you doing running about?”

His stare bore deep into your orbs, and you found herself giggling at the seemingly silly question. 

“Looking for you, my knight,” you said with a childish glee. 

“You need to be asleep. I’m sure your father is.”

You could not help it, but you rolled your eyes at him with a quirky smile. 

“Please, Din.” You sighed. “He will not be woken up. He’s had himself a few too much tonight.”

He grunted. “It seems as though you have as well, Princess.”

This caused you to frown. “Please, call me by my name. We have this talk at least once or twice a week.”

You heard the shift of his silver armor - painted with your Royal’s crescent and doing little to hide the protruding build of the man - as he twitched, moving slightly away from you. You saw this as a nervous tick, a means to hide back behind his tower and go back to silence.

You immediately regretted saying anything when you missed the warmth of his arms against you, despite the cold bite of his armor. 

He said your name cautiously. “It would be unprofessional of me to not call you by your title.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself giggling again, twirling around the halls as you continued to laugh. 

“Right. You’re one of the fiercest knights of Riverhearth.” Your voice grew louder as your giddiness did, and you could barely hear Din’s shushes over the rushing waves in your ears. 

“Brave, strong, healthy, and dangerous. Din Djarin of… of Nowhere’s Land! Where are you from, my precious guard? Just who are you? What is under all that armor?”

You had never seen Din freeze like he had that night. It was a guilty memory added to the growing list. 

But Din quickly shook it off, and you hated how remarkably good he was at keeping his composure, whereas you sometimes let your emotions get the best of you. 

“You do not need to know such things, Princess,” he said, walking towards you now that you had stopped moving from him. “You know enough about me to go on.”

“But I ought to know something more,” you pouted. Then you straightened up with a set jaw. “And as Princess of this court, I demand you tell me this instance!”

You swore you could hear his smile, but before you could tease him about it he sighed heavily through his nose and, again, you were sure, narrowed his eyes at you. You started to smile triumphantly before you were abruptly turned around in the spot, being pushed - gently although, like he was afraid to touch you - towards the direction of her bedroom. 

“Unfair,” you whined.

“Princesses don’t always get what they want,” he quipped. “You should start learning that.”

You should have felt a little offended by his words, but you found it to be humorous in nature. 

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever spoken to me like that, Din.”

He must have just realized it as well, because he stopped for a millisecond before continuing his path to your door, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble along the way; it proved a lot harder than he predicted, but thank goodness you were not completely over the rails. 

“You better get used to it then if you continue this way.”

You giggled. “Aw why? Am I -” You crossed your arms over your heart, gasping in exceragation and leaning heavily against him. “A bother to you, good knight?”

He shook his head at you and eased you into your bedroom without making too much noise, helping you lie down on your bed with a gentle flop. 

“It must be a very lonely life,” you found herself rambling. “When you’re as dedicated to the Court as yourself.”

There was nothing but the rustling of your sheets as you settled into your bed, eyes already closed and feeling dizzy from your previous excursions. 

You did not expect him to respond, and he did, but not with what you wanted to hear. 

“Rest. You will feel like roadkill in the morning, and I do not want to explain to the King on why his daughter was running around drunk at such witching hours.”

Witching hours, Din worrying about you getting a pinch on the wrist by your father, the luck of trying to find Jules leading to this conversation, it all was funny to you and you actually were able to let out a tiny giggle before succumbing to sleep. 

The next morning, as Din had told you, you did in fact feel like roadkill. Your brain thrummed against her skull, and you had to pretend that everything was okay and that you could still perform your royal duties without puking your guts out. 

Just like Din had pretended that the night before never happened. You had expected at least a polite hello or a joke about your splitting headache, but all you received was an order passed through him by your father while you were in the gardens that surrounded your pretty castle, poised and stoic. 

It made your heart lurch in defeat, but you respected him enough to let it be and to move on your days without the normal teasing and failed attempts at getting him to hold a conversation with you. It hurt greatly, but the sting of it eased when he visibly grew more relaxed around you as you calmed your efforts. 

“Patience,” your instructor had taught you. “Is a virtue, and it is a hardship you must grow accustomed to if you want to do anything in this world. Especially for a future queen as yourself.”

It was a lot more easier said than done. Even at the tender age of just twenty-one, you still had such a hard time grasping the ethics of it. 

“You will be a fine queen one day,” Jules once told you. “But they are right about one thing: you are incredibly stubborn and reckless for a title.”

So what if you were. You respected and held knowledge for the duties of your kingdom, but why should you completely erase the person you were for what was rightfully yours?

“You’ll see it one day,” Jules promised you. “Once you start acting like an adult.”

“I do!” You argued. “It is not my fault that no one sees me.”

She snorted. “I’m sure you’ll be looking back at this shaking your head at your annoying, stubborn self.”

Maybe, but you didn’t see that anytime soon in your future. 

“Dear?”

The sound of your father’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, shaking your head to clear them away. 

“Sorry, in a bit of a daydream.” You murmured to Bringham. 

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t be my daughter if you weren’t.”

You let out her own forced chuckle at his jest, and you sat in comfortable silence as you broke your fast, talking occasionally about the day’s festivities. 

“And how are the ports?” You asked through a sip of your broth. 

“Good,” he nodded his head. “Shipments arrived last night on time. We have more coming in from Colefiend, and another set out for Point Valley in the morning.”

Riverhearth was one of the closest and affordable ports in the North. Surrounded by mountains of spring and summer, there lied an ocean in between. It certainly was not the wealthiest of surrounding kingdoms, but they made well with what they had, and the people were happy and taken care of as King Bringham and the people of the Court attuned to. 

“May I please be excused?”

Bringham gave you a quizzical look. “You may. What are your plans?”

You gave your father a smirk and a tap on the tip of your nose. He made a noise of affirmation and grinned. 

“Ah, I see. Well be sure to be back for the joust, and be careful.”

Your grin grew wider. “Of course, aren’t I always?”

Jules was in the kitchens, helping the cooks and other maidens clean up and prepare varieties of desserts for the upcoming feasts. 

“Hello, Princess,” one of the cooks, Peter, greeted you. “Would you like a taste of my new recipe?”

You hummed. “As always Peter. No need to ask of me.”

He laughed. “As you wish.”

Peter held a wooden spoon over an open palm, bringing up to you for you to taste. The sauce was rich with exotic spices, and was smooth on your taste buds. 

“It’s delicious!” You exclaimed. “Just add a pinch of salt and it’s perfection.”

He grinned and nodded, going back to hover over his new creation. “Always a keen one, Princess.”

You bounced through until you found Jules, and immediately grabbed her hand. You turned to Peter, hugging Jules close to you as she giggled and you lightly scrunched her cheeks in your hand. 

“May I borrow this lovely, beautiful, elegant, and most gullible being until the festivities?” You asked through a fit of laughter and a smack against the shoulder from your dear friend as you smiled. 

Peter laughed. “Yes, your highness. Do not wander off too far!”

You and Jules agreed and ran out of the gray but pleasant castle. You ran through the gardens, through the maze and fields of flowers blooming, and through the forest that littered by. 

The forest was peculiar in its nature. Twisted vines that protruded from dead trees - though surrounded by live ones, a little confusing to you by the oddity and spratics of it - with little weeds littering along the trail. 

The trail itself was wide enough for two people to walk through without the curves of the forest's slopes. Despite its initial darkness to it, the woods was nothing but life; it was the type of beauty You appreciated greatly. 

By the time You and Jules reached it they were out of breath, giggling and rushing towards the edge of the cliff that gave one of the most beautiful views of the waters. A tall, blossom tree hung above you as you plopped down onto the grass, careful not to ruin your blue gown. 

“The joust is going to start soon,” Jules said. 

You could hear the music from there, faint but distinctive all the same. Din would be preparing right now, polishing and sharpening his sword and putting on the heavy armor he wore every day and night. It all sounded exhausting to you. 

“Hmm.”

You basked in the sun, the salty smell of the water, blue and all. This is where you truly felt at peace, like you could strip naked without a care in the world and be free, in whatever sense you needed to be. You were sure Jules felt the same way, with the glazed look in her eyes and the longing. It made you ridden with guilt each time you saw it. 

It was when the music became louder you spotted a ship rounding the corner.

“I didn’t know we were expecting visitors,” Jules said quizzically. 

“We weren’t.” You said quietly, eyebrows furrowed. “And we’re not due for another shipment either.”

You both looked to each other, confusion etched on your faces. 

“It is time to head back anyways,” Jules told you, getting up and helping you to your feet. “We shall find out there.”

The way back was quicker. You departed when they reached the stands, hugging before you went to sit next to your father, smiling and greeting anyone who looked towards you. 

“Little late,” your father chastised. 

You ignored his remark, pausing as you saw something small sitting in your chair. At closer inspection, you realized it was a flower, a lily flower at that; it was your favorite.

“Not my gift I’m afraid,” Bringham answered before you could ask. “And I have no idea on who could’ve left it there either.”

You picked it up delicately, curling a hand over it as if you were going to pet it. Whoever had left this for you, they paid enough attention to know your flower of choice; the flower your mother had nearly named you after. 

“Do we have guests coming our way?” 

He tensed slightly, but was quick to brush it off. “Nothing to worry about my dear girl.”

You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit of hers; another inheritance from her mother her father would tell her. 

“And you’d tell me if I needed to know.”

“Of course.”

It was fruitless to press in front of the village people. You turned back to the stables, where the knights were preparing with their horses. But your scowl was still visible on your face, and your father sighed softly at the sight of it, knowing he was going to have to answer for it later. 

Everyone started to grow silent as the drums signalled the official start of the joust. Your eyes searched keenly for your knight, grinning when he saw him appear. 

You found it funny when Jules occasionally called Din the ‘Dark’ Knight. His armor was everything but, all silver, chain mail glittering in the sun. You supposed your friend was right in the sense that it certainly didn’t match his personality. 

And with all the horror stories that echoed across lands and valleys of his victories?

You could see why he was anything but innocent; light. 

You barely heard the announcements over the pounding of your heart as you watched the two knights mount their horses. Din’s was a white mare, and gentle despite its size. Sometimes you’d hear him talk to his horse, as if the horse understood the language; he probably wasn’t aware he was doing it anymore. 

Your heart thudded against your chest, watching the Black Knight, a swordsmith you believed to be an appointer of the Royal Guard named Robert. 

They readied their spears, sitting on their respectable sides. You unconsciously leaned in, flower still in hand. 

Din’s horse kicked at the ground, huffing as it prepared itself. You held your breath, as were the others. 

The horn blared and their horses took off, galloping at a furious speed towards each other. 

Robert was a decent fighter, that much you had seen in person. But Din, in your opinion, was better. 

The crowd cheered as a flurry of white and black clashed against each other. The scraping of metal against metal was prominent in the summer air, loud and aggravating. 

“Looks like I made the right choice in guard,” Bringham said. 

Din sat triumphantly as his horse ran back around, Robert laying on the ground next to him. Robert eventually got back up, and he without a doubt held a glare towards his opponent; Din sat back on his side of the stables, still and patient like a hunter with its prey. 

But Robert was also known for his temper, and threw his spear on the ground, pointing a finger at the White Knight. 

“You just tread carefully, churl.”

Anyone would have already been set off, brawling until knuckles were bruised and bloody. You never had any patience for these kinds of pettiness, and it seemed as though Din didn’t either, because he trudged back to his respective area on his horse, not giving Robert a second glance. 

“Yes,” You murmured. “You did.”


End file.
